


Snowbound

by smarshtastic



Series: SALTapalooza [5]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Hand Jobs, Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Snowed In, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-14
Updated: 2017-10-14
Packaged: 2019-01-17 03:19:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12356361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smarshtastic/pseuds/smarshtastic
Summary: But McCree is visibly shivering now, and Gabe already feels guilty for not thinking of it sooner. Gabe can almost fool himself into believing it’s entirely for McCree’s own good that he agrees to curl up with McCree under the sleeping bag.---Snowed into a safe house, Gabe tries to keep Jesse warm.





	Snowbound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fabrega](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fabrega/gifts).



> Week Four of [SALTapalooza](https://saltapalooza.tumblr.com/)! Today's prompt was "Trapped in a..." - because getting my favorite pairings into close spaces is Very Important. This is a fourteen part series that will update every Saturday for the next teen weeks. 
> 
> Feel free to come yell at [me](https://twitter.com/smarshtastic/) or [fabrega](https://twitter.com/carithlee) about this on twitter. :D

The blizzard takes out the power about an hour into their extraction efforts. It comes out of nowhere, so they’re underprepared for the sudden shift in weather conditions. There's too much interference on the comms, but Gabe manages to get a message out to the strike team: safe, for now, and they’ll check in when the storm clears. There isn't much they can do but wait it out. 

Gabe's eyes slide to McCree after he switches off the comms to preserve their charge. McCree practically has his face pressed to the window of their one-room safe house. There isn't much to see: it's a full whiteout outside. 

“So, how long do these things usually last?” McCree asks, looking over his shoulder at Gabe. 

“A couple of hours, give or take,” Gabe says. He moves around the room, checking what minimal supplies they have: a few battery powered lanterns, a hot plate (useless without power), a handful of protein bars, and a sleeping bag. Without power, the safe house is liable to get cold quickly, but Gabe hopes the insulation will hold. He tries to remember if this particular safe house was covered in the last round of approved renovations, or if it was cut to help thin the budget. No need to worry yet, but Gabe can’t help the way his tactician’s mind jumps to the worst possibilities. 

“Oh, wow,” McCree says. He looks back out the window. “It’s really something.”

“Come on, you’ve seen snow before,” Gabe says. 

“Not like this. Everything in Switzerland is peaceful - this is kinda nuts.”

Gabe snorts. “You’re not wrong.”

McCree moves away from the window and makes the same turn around the safe house that Gabe did, taking stock of the supplies. He switches his own comm off and drops it on the table next to Gabe’s. He shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels. 

“So, what do we do?”

“We wait,” Gabe says with a shrug. McCree makes a face. 

“Great. You don’t happen to have a pack of cards or something, do you?”

“Not on me.”

“I guess we’re gonna get to know each other pretty well, huh?”

“Don’t sound too excited now,” Gabe says. He pulls out a seat at the small table and starts laying out his weapons for cleaning - something to keep his hands busy. After a moment, McCree sits across from him and does the same. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’d rather be stuck here with you than, say, Edwards or someone,” McCree says. Gabe glances up at McCree, but he’s not looking at him. 

“A high bar,” Gabe says dryly. 

“Please. You’re at the top of my list, Commander,” McCree says, tone light. Gabe tries to ignore the little flutter in his chest at McCree’s words. He focuses, instead, on cleaning his guns. 

The two of them sit in comfortable silence as they clean their weapons. Outside, the storm rages, the wind howling as it buffets their little safe house. McCree starts humming tunelessly. 

“Could really go for some whiskey about now,” McCree says after a while. Gabe glances up. 

“Not something we usually stock in our safe houses,” he says. 

“And it’s a damn shame, too,” McCree says. “I could use the warm up.”

Gabe blinks, then frowns. It  _ is _ starting to get cold in the safe house; the lack of power is really becoming evident. When he looks around, he notices the windows are frosted over. Gabe generally runs hot, so it takes a lot for him to notice a dip in temperature. On the other hand, McCree, though he’s filled out quite a bit in the years since he’d joined Blackwatch, doesn’t have any SEP enhancements running through his veins to keep him warm. When McCree breathes, it leaves a puff of fog in front of his face. All of a sudden, Gabe feels guilty for not noticing sooner. 

“Grab the sleeping bag,” Gabe says. “It’ll keep you warm.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine,” Gabe says. He barely feels the chill now, anyway. “I run hot.”

If McCree’s gaze lingers for any longer than a moment, it’s surely a figment of Gabe’s imagination. Gabe stands to retrieve the sleeping bag, just so that McCree doesn’t see the color rising in his cheeks. 

“We should probably get some sleep anyway,” McCree says. “Save the lanterns, right? Besides, it’s late.”

Gabe hesitates. There’s only one sleeping bag because  _ of course _ there is - he’s pretty sure he has Jack’s penny pinching to blame. 

“I’ll keep watch,” Gabe says after too-long of a pause. He holds the sleeping bag out. “You get some sleep.”

“You can’t see a damn thing out that window,” McCree says, looking at him blandly. “Might as well sleep too.”

“There’s only one sleeping bag.”

“I promise I won’t bite,” McCree says. “Besides, I ain’t gonna be picky if it’s gonna keep me from losing my toes.”

It takes Gabe a moment to process that McCree is actually suggesting they sleep together. Once it's clear that  _ that's _ what's on the table, Gabe would be lying if he said he wasn't tempted. 

The thing is, though, he's been incredibly careful about crossing any lines with McCree. He's charming, handsome, and Gabe has been trying to quell a crush for some time now. It doesn't help that McCree had kissed him once before; it was late, they had been drinking, but McCree had  _ asked _ first and Gabe - in a moment of weakness - didn't say no. He told himself afterwards that he couldn't let it happen again, that it had to be enough. He didn't want to put McCree in a position where anyone would question whether his accomplishments were really on his own merit or because Gabe played favorites. 

But McCree is visibly shivering now, and Gabe already feels guilty for not thinking of it sooner. Gabe can almost fool himself into believing it’s entirely for McCree’s own good that he agrees to curl up with McCree under the sleeping bag. 

There’s a small rug that they use as a bedroll. Gabe dawdles as McCree unzips the sleeping bag then arranges himself underneath. Gabe turns off the lanterns, leaving only one on and moving it by the rug, and checks the comms one last time before turning it off. Outside, the blizzard is still howling. It’s actually really cold in the safe house now; even Gabe can feel it. His breath hangs in front of his face with each breath. Gabe closes his eyes briefly, allowing himself a moment to collect himself before he turns back to McCree. 

He finds McCree tucked under the sleeping bag, which he’s drawn up to his nose. McCree found a chair cushion for his head and his hat is perched on the table. His eyes are following Gabe around the safe house. 

“You done?” McCree asks. Gabe makes a face. 

“You sure you want me…?” 

“I’m freezing,” McCree says plainly. “C’mon, before I lose some toes or something. Get your ass under here.”

Gabe pretends that McCree’s words don’t send a shiver down his spine. He gets down on the rug and lifts the corner of the sleeping bag. Still, he hesitates. Then McCree’s hand tugs his sleeve. 

“Come  _ on _ , before you let all the warm out.”

Gabe slides under the sleeping bag and McCree swarms to his side immediately. He lets out a little sigh practically into Gabe’s ear. 

“You're like a goddamn space heater,” he murmurs. Gabe is grateful for the relative darkness - maybe McCree won't be able to tell he's blushing. 

“It's just the SEP,” Gabe says gruffly. 

“Well it's good for something, huh?” McCree says. He's got his head tucked against Gabe’s shoulder, the cold tip of his nose warming against Gabe’s neck. Gabe lies very still. 

“Should get some sleep,” he says. McCree hums. 

“Uh huh,” he says. There's a pause. “Thanks for this. I hate being cold.”

“Don't want you to lose any toes.”

“Heh. Yeah. Good night, Commander.”

Gabe squeezes his eyes shut and tries not to let his mind wander. He catalogues the feeling of McCree curled up against him: the hand splayed across his chest, the way his breath ghosts across his throat, the tickle of his hair against his ear, the knee that's just slightly uncomfortably pressed against his thigh. He does his best to not let his mind wander. This is a matter of survival, nothing else. Still, Gabe knows he'll remember the close proximity for years to come. If it's all he gets to have, he'll take it. 

At some point, Gabe must fall asleep. He wakes, groggy, the wind still howling outside, with McCree spooned up against his back. McCree’s arm is draped over his side, fingers splayed across his stomach, rucking up the fabric of his shirt and grazing Gabe’s bare skin. His breath is warm and damp on the back of his neck. Gabe can't remember the last time he's been held like this. It's nice. Gabe lets himself drift back to sleep. 

When Gabe wakes again, it's on the heels of a dream that he  _ shouldn't  _ be having, but his unconscious mind doesn't listen to his rational brain. McCree is still spooned up behind him, his hand on Gabe’s bare skin under his shirt. Gabe shifts a little and then he feels it, unmistakable even through the layers of their tac gear. He swallows thickly, wondering if he's still dreaming. 

McCree feels him shift and presses lightly against his stomach. His lips ghost over the back of Gabe’s neck. 

“Y’ awake?” McCree asks. Gabe gives a jerky nod. McCree presses a warm, soft kiss to the back of his neck. “This okay?”

Gabe nods again, his heart rate picking up. 

“Wanna hear you say it,” McCree says. “If you don't want me to -”

“I do,” Gabe breathes before he can stop himself. He feels McCree smile against the back of his neck. 

“Stop me if you change your mind,” he says, fingers slipping down to the waistband of Gabe’s pants, finding the button and popping it open before he deftly unzips Gabe’s pants. He does it so seamlessly, Gabe has to wonder if McCree has done this before. But then McCree palms his dick and it's all Gabe can focus on. 

McCree presses up against his back, hips flush to Gabe’s ass, the hard line of his own dick evident even through the layers of fabric between them. His fingers wrap around the hot flesh of Gabe’s rapidly hardening cock and Gabe closes his eyes. He can allow himself this one indulgence, just once. McCree breathes heavily into Gabe’s ear, rolling his hips in time with the rhythm of his hand stroking down Gabe’s cock. It's been a long time since Gabe has had anyone’s hand but his own, and he knows he's not going to last - as much as he never wants it to end. He shifts back against McCree’s dick, hoping that it's enough, wishing it was more. His toes curl in his boots as his breath hitches in his throat. 

“I'm -” Gabe chokes out but he tumbles over the edge before he manages to form a complete sentence. He spills into McCree’s fist with a little aborted moan. Behind him, McCree grinds against his ass. 

“Yeah - god. That's one way to keep warm, huh?” McCree breathes, his voice strained and quiet, barely audible over the sound of the storm. He doesn't pull his hand away, pressing it stickily to Gabe’s lower stomach to hold him in place as he rocks against his ass. 

“D’you want…?” Gabe trails off, half-turning to look over his shoulder. In the semi-darkness, McCree surprises him by catching his mouth in a heated kiss. He moans into it and feels McCree do the same. His hips stutter against his ass and that must be it - McCree drags his mouth away from Gabe’s and pulls his hand out of his pants. He does Gabe the favor of tugging his zipper back up. Gabe’s almost certain he sees McCree licking his fingers clean, but he can't be sure his mind isn't playing tricks on him. 

“Plenty warm now,” McCree murmurs. He resettles behind Gabe, arm slung over Gabe’s waist, and soon enough his breathing evens out against the back of Gabe’s neck again. Gabe blinks, trying to decide if it was a dream or a memory that he'll hold onto. 

=-=-=

Gabe wakes when the sky lightens outside the windows of the safe house. He's warm and this time he's curled up around McCree, who’s snoring lightly into the crook of his arm. There's no indication that anything had actually happened between them - except when Gabe eases himself up from the floor and he finds the button on his pants still undone. He buttons it hurriedly, glancing at McCree’s still sleeping body with something like guilt settling in his throat. 

Instead of dwelling, Gabe moves around the safe house and checks their comms, checks for power, checks the conditions outside the windows. Power’s still out, the snow is piled high, but the storm seems to have blown itself out at some point in the night. Gabe manages to get a signal on the comms and pings the team with an update and to check on extraction possibilities. He settles into a seat at the table and cracks open a protein bar while he waits for a response from HQ. 

“Mornin’,” McCree drawls sleepily from under the sleeping bag. He rubs at his eyes and sits up, tugging the sleeping bag around his shoulders like a blanket. 

“Sleep okay?” Gabe asks, carefully, not sure how to broach the topic -  _ if _ he should bring it up. 

“Like a baby,” McCree says. “You?”

“Fine,” Gabe says, maybe too abruptly. McCree looks at him for what seems like a long moment, an unreadable expression in his eyes, before he gets up, taking the sleeping bag with him. 

“You got another one of those protein bars?” he asks. Gabe holds one up and McCree takes it, unwrapping it as he goes to look out the window. Gabe can't help feeling like he's said something wrong, but he can't find the words to articulate it. He isn't sure he'd be able to get any words out, anyway, the way his throat feels like it's closing up. “Would you look at that?”

Gabe picks his head up. “What?”

“We really got snowed in,” McCree says, gesturing toward the window with a blanketed arm. “I thought that only happened in movies.”

“Global warming, or something,” Gabe says with a shrug. 

“I guess so,” McCree says. He takes a bite of his protein bar and chews thoughtfully, eyes scanning the snowy landscape outside the window. He half turns to look at Gabe. “You get ahold of HQ? How long are we gonna be stuck here?”

Of course McCree wouldn't want to be stuck here with him - not after what happened, not after... Guilt rises like bile in his throat. He should've been better than this. He shouldn't have been so weak. 

“Not long,” Gabe says. “They're working on extraction now.”

“Oh,” McCree nods. He turns back to the window, chewing on his protein bar quietly. Gabe restlessly checks the comms again. It’s going to be a long wait. 

It's another couple of hours before the extraction team gets to their location. The power kicks on again in the last hour or so, warming the safe house through. McCree rolls up the sleeping bag and puts it back where they found it. 

“Well, this could've gone a lot worse,” McCree says, drumming his fingers on the table. Gabe glances up at him. 

“That's true,” Gabe agrees. McCree catches Gabe’s eye and Gabe feels his breath stick in his throat. 

“We ought to do it again some time,” McCree says. Gabe’s mind races. 

“Get snowed in?”

“Yeah, that's what I mean,” McCree says, rolling his eyes. Gabe shouldn't read into McCree’s words, but he can't help it. He opens his mouth but then the comm blares with the signal from the extraction team. He grimaces instead and picks up the comm.

“We should get moving,” Gabe says. “It's a little bit of a hike.”

“Great,” McCree says. He gets up and retrieves his pack and Gabe does the same. He lets McCree step out of the safe house ahead of him so he can lock up. It's still freezing outside, icy, though it's at least stopped snowing. The wind cuts right through them. Gabe pushes ahead, head bowed against the wind. Concentrating on not slipping in the icy snow, he almost forgets about everything hanging between himself and McCree. 

They reach the designated extraction point in the hills only to find they've beaten the shuttle there. Gabe makes a face, trying to kick some ice off his boots. The cold is already starting to seep in. He glances at McCree: his shoulders are hunched, and Gabe’s pretty sure he's shivering. 

“Come here,” Gabe says. McCree looks at him, almost warily. “They'll be here in a few minutes. I don't want you to freeze before then.”

After another moment’s hesitation, McCree shuffles over and tucks himself into Gabe’s side. Gabe wraps one arm around his shoulders and imagines he can radiate heat. He can feel McCree shivering under his arm. 

“We got caught pretty unprepared, huh?” McCree says. 

“We should know better,” Gabe says. He feels McCree shift but he doesn't pull away. 

The shuttle lands a few minutes later. Gabe herds McCree into the shuttle and gets the heat up high before he goes for one of the emergency blankets. He offers it to McCree as he takes a seat next to him. 

“I'll be alright,” McCree says, shaking his head. “I hate how crinkly those things are.”

Gabe nods and sets the packet to the side. “The heat will kick in.”

“I'm looking forward to a hot shower,” McCree says. Gabe tries not to read into  _ that _ either - he has been painfully aware of the stiffness of the fabric in his pants since waking up earlier. 

“Well, we’ll be back in a few hours,” Gabe says. He picks up a tablet and pulls up some paperwork to keep him occupied. Next to him, McCree tugs his hat down over his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. Gabe listens to his breathing deepen and lengthen out. McCree isn't exactly snoring, but it's close enough. At some point, he slumps over onto Gabe’s shoulder and Gabe doesn't have the heart to move him. 

McCree wakes when they land. He pushes the brim of his hat up, blinking blearily as he looks at Gabe. There's a softness in his face that isn't usually there - it makes Gabe’s heart ache. 

“We’re back,” Gabe says, his voice mirroring the softness he sees in McCree’s face. “Go get cleaned up - we can debrief in an hour.”

In his own quarters, Gabe strips off his tac gear and tosses everything into the laundry. He turns the water up hot in his shower. As much as he tries, he can't help but remember McCree’s hands on him, the press of his erection against his ass. Gabe bites down on hip lip and strokes himself hard and fast, choking back McCree’s name as he comes, splattering the shower wall. Embarrassed and guilty all over again, Gabe dressed hurriedly and heads to the conference room for a debrief. 

Jack intercepts Gabe on the way there - talking quickly about some development that came up while he was out of communication. Gabe is only half-listening, still caught up in his embarrassment. Whatever Jack is talking about necessitates Blackwatch’s immediate attention, so Gabe pivots and calls in the rest of the strike team. It's almost a relief; the prospect of more work is a welcome distraction. 

Gabe falls into the familiar motions of planning an operation. Once they have a clearer picture of what they're up against, Gabe doles out assignments with practiced ease. It's only later - much later - when Gabe realizes what he's done: out of habit, he's assigned McCree to his team. It strikes him late into the night, after they've been poring over maps for a couple of hours and Valdez has left them to investigate a particular piece of the intel with archival records. Gabe is suddenly acutely aware of McCree’s proximity. 

“Boss?” McCree asks, his tone indicating it surely wasn't the first time he asked. Gabe looks up from the maps projected on the table in front of them. McCree holds his gaze, open and unblinking. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” Gabe says, dropping his gaze back to the maps. 

“You went away there for a second,” McCree says. 

“Probably just need another cup of coffee,” Gabe says. 

“You know, somebody once told me coffee ain't a substitute for sleep,” McCree says. Gabe makes a face. “Did you sleep in the shuttle?”

“I'm alright,” Gabe says. McCree moves his hand over Gabe’s, tangling their fingers together. Gabe feels his breath catch in his throat. He dares to lift his eyes back to McCree’s face. 

“If I crossed a line -” he starts to say. Gabe feels the blood rush to his face. 

“You didn't,” Gabe blurts out. His face goes hotter. “I mean, I shouldn't have - I don't want you to think -”

“What?” McCree asks. It's everything Gabe can do to maintain eye contact. 

“That I took advantage,” Gabe says, voice low, barely audible. McCree blinks then tips his head back and laughs. Cheeks burning, Gabe tries to pull his hand away. McCree grabs it back and squeezes it. 

“No - Jesus, Gabe, I've been trying  _ for ages _ ,” McCree says. There's color in his face too but he's looking Gabe ever so earnestly as he goes on. “I never asked anyone out before. And, hell. I didn't think that - I dunno.”

“That’s how you ask someone out?” Gabe asks. McCree goes even more flustered. 

“ _ No _ \- ‘course not. It’s just I never thought that… I’d get a chance or - or - that you’d want…”

Gabe looks at him, confused. “Of course I do.”

McCree doesn’t do anything for one, frightening moment and then he surges forward and kisses Gabe hard. Gabe nearly stumbles backwards, surprised, but McCree wraps his arms around him and tugs him close. His mouth is soft and warm and insistent, and Gabe loves it already. He wraps his own arms around McCree and holds on, parting his lips so he can taste McCree’s tongue as it sweeps into his mouth. McCree is crowding him against the table but Gabe goes willingly, at least until the table is digging into the small of his back. He doesn’t expect McCree to lift him up but he  _ does _ \- barely breaking contact with his lips as he takes two fistfuls of Gabe’s ass and lifts him easily onto the table. It’s a good thing too; the gesture practically makes Gabe’s knees give out. As it is, Gabe lets out a little moan directly into McCree’s mouth. 

“Been meaning to do this forever -” McCree says between hot, open-mouthed kisses. 

“You didn’t - ah - say anything -” Gabe protests. 

“Thought I didn’t have to,” McCree says. His hand is rucking up his shirt, pressing warmly against Gabe’s ribs. “Thought it was obvious.”

Gabe makes himself pull away. “McCree -”

At the sound of his name, McCree pulls away immediately, putting distance between them. Gabe already misses the hand on his skin. He blinks. 

“What?” 

“If you don’t want this,  _ me _ ,” McCree gestures vaguely at himself. “Just say so, alright?”

“What makes you think I don’t…?” Gabe asks, bewildered. McCree returns the confused look. 

“You stopped - you called me McCree.”

“That’s your name.”

McCree blinks and then the worry disappears from his face. The corner of his mouth turns up. “Think you better call me Jesse, if we’re gonna do this.”

“Jesse,” Gabe says, trying it out. It feels right. “Jesse,” he says again, practically breathes it. He reaches out for him. Jesse slides in close, fitting himself between Gabe’s legs, taking his face in both hands. He kisses him sweetly. 

“Gabe,” Jesse says, barely a whisper against his lips. Gabe closes his eyes, a little, pleased sigh escaping his mouth. 

“You really want to do this?” Gabe asks. 

“Thought it was obvious,” Jesse says, kissing him again. It sends a thrill down Gabe’s spine. 

“There’s just - it’s a lot to ask,” Gabe says. “Paperwork to fill out. Keep everything above board -”

“Hey,” Jesse says. He slides a hand under Gabe’s chin. “Let’s just take it one step at a time, yeah? Do it right, right from the start.”

“A little late for that, don’t you think?”

Jesse huffs out a laugh. “You know what I mean. Just - do it right. We deserve that.”

Gabe finds himself smiling. “Yeah? Yeah - okay.”

“Let’s start with a date first, maybe,” Jesse suggests. 

“A date?” Gabe repeats, taken aback. 

“A date,” Jesse nods. 

“I haven’t been on a date in…” Gabe says, then trails off. He doesn’t really want to do the math. The color rises to his cheeks again. 

“Well, that makes two of us,” Jesse says lightly. He kisses him sweetly. “Dinner?”

“Now?”

“Kinda late. Figured we’d wanna do it right, anyway. Get all dressed up, even.”

“Oh,” Gabe says. He nods. “Yeah - yeah, I’d like that.”

“I’d really like to keep kissing you now, though,” Jesse says. Gabe reaches up and pulls Jesse down to kiss him again, tipping all the way backwards until he’s lying on the table with Jesse hovering over him. He feels tingly and warm all the way down to his toes. He has the fleeting thought that he’ll never be cold again. 


End file.
